


Fix You Up

by predictaslash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Speed Dating, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predictaslash/pseuds/predictaslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Danny really scraped the bottom of the barrel for this one.”</p><p>“I can see that.”  Peter has on the deepest v-neck sweater that Stiles has ever seen.  It’s obscene.  It’s NSFW.  It’s public indecency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix You Up

Stiles doesn’t even look up as the next guy slides into the chair in front of him. He looks at his watch. It’s only twenty minutes--four five-minute “dates”--into this travesty and all he can think about is the beer, pizza, and Netflix coming his way after this shit is over with. Staying for the post-event mixer was not part of the deal he made with Danny when he said he’d take part in the Lonely Hearts Speed Dating night he had planned as a fundraiser. He said yes _months_ ago and was sort of hoping that Danny would forget by the time February 14th rolled around. 

“Think about the children, Stiles, the poor LGBTQ children who just want to go to prom,” Danny had said as he slapped Stiles’s nametag on his chest.

The people who had showed up to Jungle before 11pm were really nothing to write home about. Thus, he is looking down at his watch when he hears the familiar drawl. “Well, well, well.”

He freezes, the way prey does when it first notices a predator--hears them or smells them on a breeze. Shaking himself because it’s ridiculous to still be afraid of someone who has helped teenage girls pick out winter formal dresses, Stiles looks up, sighing. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Danny really scraped the bottom of the barrel for this one.”

“I can see that.” Peter has on the deepest v-neck sweater that Stiles has ever seen. It’s obscene. It’s NSFW. It’s public indecency. 

“I’m here as a favor to a friend for charity.” Stiles holds up his note card with doodles and silly scribbles--he’s supposed to be taking notes on what he likes/dislikes about each date. 

“So you aren’t absolutely gushing over Stephen over there?” Stephen is two tables over. Stephen doesn’t vote because he doesn’t really keep up with politics. However, Stephen does really keep up with the Kardashians.

“Unlike gentlemen, I don’t prefer blondes.” Peter smirks--well, smirking is his resting bitch face, but he’s smirkier than usual. Probably thinking of his own thick, dark hair and maybe thinking that Stiles implied that he likes Peter’s hair or something. 

There’s a slight lull in the conversation while Peter smirks and Stiles glares. Danny sees it and immediately flits over. “If you’re not going to try,” he says with a smile, “At least pretend.” He shoves conversation cards at both of them and goes to monitor everyone else’s progress.

Peter gives a little growl and a flash of fang at Danny’s retreating form. It is most certainly _not_ sexy. ‘“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for love?”’ Peter reads it in a deadpan, very unimpressed with the conversation card.

“Drove my Jeep through a wall.” Peter looks a bit put off by this answer for some reason. Stiles looks down at his conversation card. ‘“Describe your ideal date.”’

“Making a blood sacrifice to the wolf gods under a full moon.” Stiles admits to himself that his mouth twitches up just a little bit. ‘“Why do you think you’re still single even though you’ve been called Beacon Hills’ most eligible deputy?”’

“It does not even say that; what does it really say?” Stiles make a grab for the card, but, you know, wolf speed. Peter jerks the card just out of his reach. “Fine. Someone once called me werebait. Maybe that’s why I’m still single.” Peter grins because he’s the one who called Stiles that as he creepily sniffed him once or twice in high school. It’s kinda true, though--Stiles is pretty sure he’s still single because of his tumultuous life--Sheriff’s deputy by day, supernatural investigator/problem solver by night. Stiles sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are you here, anyway?”

Peter inspects his nails. “Didn’t you hear about that poor trans kid in Texas who couldn’t take his girlfriend to prom? What a travesty.” His voice couldn’t sound more disinterested. 

“And the reason I saw you last week at the grocery store?”

“This may come as a surprise to you, sweetheart, but I needed groceries. To eat.”

“Hm. Is that the same reason I saw your car at the park when I was at Anna’s little league game? And at the coffee shop?”

“You know what my car looks like? I’m flattered.”

“I know what your car looks like in case I ever see it fleeing from the site of a mauling.”

“Please. I rarely do that anymore. I’m practically retired.”

The sound of a throat clearing breaks them from their back-and-forth, and Peter pops his claws out on the hand that’s on the table like he’s a damn teenage werewolf going through his first full moon. Stiles knows he’s doing it on purpose, but he drops his hand over Peter’s before the civilian can see. Peter, now claw-free, turns his hand up and twines their fingers together. Stiles took that bait--hook, line, sinker.

“So, the bell rang.” The next guy is standing there awkwardly, shifting his weight. He’s cute with a short beard--he’s wearing a Hawkeye shirt and he’s probably into the same things that Stiles is into. But all Stiles can think about is the palm pressed against his, so warm. He hopes his hand isn’t sweaty.

And now this guy is just looking at them, pencil and dating card in hand. He doesn’t stand a chance.

Especially when Peter smiles his most charming smile and says “Stiles here must go. He just got a call from the station, you see. Emergency police business.” The guy looks a little crestfallen--Stiles is flattered. Peter pretends to look around, doesn’t even try to feign disappointment. “Oh, dear, looks like we have an uneven number. I guess I’ll excuse myself--wouldn’t want to deprive anyone else of potentially meeting their soul mate.” 

Stiles is _very_ thankful for the opportunity to escape, even if Peter has created it. He feels like he has to say something before leaving, so he looks up at the other guy and says, “Yeah, uh, a whole family was murdered, so I gotta go.” Peter is now very obviously trying not to laugh at Stiles’s idiocy. 

Stiles pulls their hands apart and grabs his coat from the back of his chair. He looks around to make sure Danny is occupied and won’t catch him sneaking out. He doesn’t have to look back to know that Peter is following behind him--he just knows.

Once they’re outside of Jungle, Stiles softly pushes Peter up against the wall, one hand shoving at his shoulder until his back hits the brick.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Peter.” 

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“The stalking? The scent marking? Scott can smell you, you know. Hell, even Anna’s picked it up and she’s seven. You’re not subtle.”

“Isn’t that the entire point of scent marking? To inform everyone in a non-subtle way that you belong to me?” Peter says it in a way that indicates that Stiles is slow on the uptake.

Stiles screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are you even.”

“Is that a question?”

“Is your face a question?” Stiles curls his hand around the collar of Peter’s soft, worn leather jacket and crowds up against him. He intends for the gesture to be threatening, to shake him a little and let him know that _he means business_. Peter’s face indicates that the gesture of the opposite of threatening--it stokes a fire in his eyes that doesn’t bode well for anyone. 

“Took you long enough.” Jesus, this man can’t say what he means or what wants. 

“It took _me_ long enough? You need to go to therapy.” And then he kisses Peter, just a little thing, a press of lips to lips that he almost immediately regrets. Peter slides a hand into the waist of his jeans and pulls him forward by his belt and gives Stiles a real kiss, a toe curling, stomach fluttering, deep kiss. With tongue. 

He will never admit that he’s panting a little when Peter finally pulls away. Hands come up to smooth over Stiles’s collar, over his shoulders, down his arms. “Come on, Werebait, I’ll take you home.”

**Author's Note:**

> PS: Anna is Scott's kid. Also, I just wanted to write about Peter and Stiles speed dating and wrote this up super quick. Happy Valentine's Day, ya'll.


End file.
